


Immovable Object

by kateandbarrel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Community: sherlockbbc_fic, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-20
Updated: 2011-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:51:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateandbarrel/pseuds/kateandbarrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Sherlock kinkmeme, though this is decidedly unkinky. Prompt: I need an antidote for all the long-suffering John fic I've been reading. You know the fics where Sherlock behaves like selfish ass, but John, because he's in love, just puts up with it forever, no matter how miserable it makes him?</p><p>So, Established S/J, Sherlock's being a selfish jerk, neglecting John, maybe even unfaithful to him (with Lestrade or Jim), and John falls out of love with him. One day he wakes up and realizes, nope, he just doesn't feel it anymore. He's done.</p><p>I want the mixed sadness and anger at having come to this decision, and then the relief of moving on.</p><p>John's POV please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immovable Object

John had always assumed that Sherlock would be the one to tire of their relationship, to tire of _him._ John never thought he'd be the one to wake up one day and think to himself _enough is enough._

He doesn't know when the shift of feelings happened. All John knows is that he's no longer endeared by Sherlock's antics. Running all over London, getting shot at, hurt. Being abandoned at crime scenes or at the Yard because Sherlock's had a hunch and forgotten to tell John about it. Sherlock's tantrums which he spends in fits of not talking to John, doing messy experiments which sometimes explode, tunelessly playing his violin at all hours while John holds a pillow over his head and tries, in vain, to sleep.

John used to jokingly refer to their flat as a nuthouse. These days he finds he's calling it that much more seriously.

Some part of him had thought - _maybe Sherlock'll settle. Maybe he just needs time. He can't be all nerves and frantic energy and irresponsibility forever._ But they've been together, now, for a long time - years. They've shared a lot of personal triumphs. Solving innumerable cases together. Tracking and finally bringing down Moriarity. They've done so much, but it's never enough for Sherlock. He always wants _more._

And one morning, while the greyish-orange early light filters in through the window and illuminates the man lying next to him, John realizes that he can't _take_ any more.

John wonders briefly what it would be like to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Leisurely waking up to the birds and the sun. Sitting on the couch, drinking a coffee and reading the paper. Having a partner that would ask him what he would like to do that day. Holding his hand. Smiling at him and sometimes just letting him know that he is loved.

A heaviness settles in John's chest because he knows Sherlock will never be that partner. Will never think of John first.

John pushes back a lock of hair from Sherlock's sleeping face. Angular, beautiful, amazing. He's still amazing.

John tries not to be angry, and he's not really, not at Sherlock anyway. John had been fully warned. _Married to my work._ But John didn't listen. He pursued Sherlock anyway. And he had felt victorious when Sherlock reciprocated. That first kiss, hard, insistent, uncertain, needy. It had been perfect. And John thought he'd done it. Thought that this was the beginning of something that would change both their lives. But it hadn't been, of course. Sherlock was an immovable object. And no matter how John has tried, he hadn't been able to edge his way in.

But John knows, somewhere deep inside, had always known, that he never will be Sherlock's first priority. John is a little bit angry, yes, but at himself. For thinking he could ever change someone like Sherlock Holmes.

His eyes feel wet as the words to finally describe how he feels coalesce in his mind, and travel like an electric shock to his heart. John doesn't want this to be the end - he doesn't. But at the same time, when he thinks of walking out of 221B Baker Street with a bag of clothes in his hand and no intent to return, he is filled with irresistible _want._ He lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding as he views it in his mind - walking down Baker Street, past the familiar shops and restaurants and homes, each step bringing him closer to something like freedom.

Sherlock's breathing changes slightly, goes shallow. He's waking up.

John doesn't know what he'll say. Doesn't know how he'll end it. He just knows that he will.


End file.
